Chapter Thirty-One #2
back clatter and fade as it heads uphill and away from us.
“That was Lady Azzeya of the Emerald Household,” Titus says. “One of the most powerful noblewomen in Cathira. Probably on
her way to see the high potentat.”
“Then I suppose we should follow?”
“Indeed.”
A block later, we begin to attract attention. Gate sentries stare as we pass. A gardener looks up from pruning a young olive
tree and frowns. An older woman hurries toward us, followed by two porters heavily laden with packages. As we close the distance,
she gives an order to the porters, who immediately step in front of her to form a wall of protection.
Titus ignores them all, but I can’t help whispering, “You don’t seem very eligible right now.”
“Presentation is one of Cathira’s highest virtues.” Titus chuckles. “I should have realized they wouldn’t see past our state of dress. Nothing scares rich people more than poor people.”
“You’d think people would notice our rings instead, or the fact that we’re leading a Thordin stallion.”
“You’d think.”
“Maybe we smell bad.”
“Assuredly.”
“And if you really want to look presentable, you should let me shave both your beard hairs.”
He gets the joke right away this time. “Very funny.”
The Emerald Household palanquin that passed us moments ago comes clattering toward us, its chimes ringing, and once again
we step aside to let it pass.
“That was a quick visit,” I observe.
“Very strange,” Titus agrees.
We reach the palace gates, and spearmen with half-shaved heads and copious golden earrings move to block our path. They say
nothing, not even a “State your business!” They do not make eye contact. They simply stand stoically, feet braced apart, spears
crossed before us. They each wear an exact copy of my own royal household ring.
Titus says, “I’d like to speak to Captain Nurwah.”
No one moves.
“I should clarify,” Titus says. “I want to speak to her now.”
One of the spearmen peers closer. He says, “Lord Titus?”
“Hello, Spearman Zhurit. I hope your baby daughter is well.”
“Fat and thriving!” Zhurit says, grinning now. “And with lungs that could command a potentat’s army.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Though not at all surprised, given her birth mother.”
Zhurit beams. “The captain is not available, but I’d be happy to fetch Her Excellency the legatat.”
“Thank you, Zhurit. Though you could save yourself the trip and just let us pass.”
All the spearmen suddenly appear uncomfortable. “Wish I could, my lord. But we’re under strict orders to let no one in except
by invitation.”
Titus frowns, but he says, “In that case, we’ll happily and patiently await your return.”
The spearman nods, and gestures to one of his fellows. “These two are members of the household. Get them something to drink
while they wait. They’ve obviously had a long journey.” The man bows once, then hurries inside one of the guard towers.
Zhurit jogs up the palm-lined road toward the palace and disappears around a curve.
“What was that about?” I whisper to Titus.
“No idea. I’ve only been gone a year, and I left on good terms with both the high potentat and the princess heir.”
The spearman returns with two clay-fired cups filled with fresh water. We thank him and sip. The water is clean and clear
but lukewarm, so I surreptitiously dip a finger into the liquid and call on my Gift. Just the tiniest tweak of my magical
thread makes the mug cool in my hands. Practicing with Titus has paid off. It’s no trouble at all to use my magic delicately,
with finesse.
I switch mugs with Titus. He sips, sighs blissfully, and says, “You’re a wonder.” As I cool the second mug, he adds, “You know, if innkeeping doesn’t work out, you could earn a fortune making things cool in a desert city.”
My lips go still on the edge of the cup. I’ve never considered doing anything but innkeeping. But the world is so much bigger
than I ever imagined, my Gift so much more useful.
We don’t wait long. Zhurit returns, leading a dark-skinned, elegant woman in a diaphanous gown and more jewelry than I’ve
ever seen on a person. Each finger and toe displays at least one ring. Golden rings line her earlobes and the outer cartilage
of her ears. Delicate chains swoop from her ears to her nose rings. Her vast necklace is more like a chain-mail shawl, settling
over her bare shoulders, dripping blue sapphires down her low neckline. She is completely bald except for a diamond-shaped
patch of black hair on the right side of her scalp.
She seems to glide toward us, unhurried and unbothered, but as she draws closer, I see the sheen of sweat on her upper lip
and hear the quickness of her breathing. When she reaches the gate, Spearman Zhurit announces in a formal voice, “Her Excellency
Theamut Dewaana, legatat of the Diamond Household.”
“Lord Titus,” she says in a soft, husky voice. “My heart fills with Sulestra’s light at the sight of you.” But the spearmen
make no move to open the gate, and the legatat seems content to speak to us through the iron scrollwork.
Titus bows low, and I quickly follow his example.
“Your Excellency,” Titus says. “Thank you for casting your shadow upon us. Is my foster mother available? I’ve missed her.”
“Alas, she is not, dear boy. The Diamond Household is not taking visitors at this time.”
Titus’s mouth opens. Closes. He is truly baffled.
Finally he manages, “But I’m a member of the Diamond Household. And this is Bria Angarsold, citizen of Grimsvold and sworn into my service as my shield
maiden. I was so hoping to introduce my vassal to the household.”
The legatat’s smile is wide and white, but nothing of softness reaches her eyes. “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
Titus grabs the bars of the gate and presses his face closer. “Is she all right? Is something wrong?”
The spearmen step forward nervously, but the legatat waves them away. “She is well.”
“Then . . . what about my foster sister? May I see Syla?”
Her smile is unwavering, her eyes hard. “No members of the high potentat’s family are receiving visitors at this time.”
Titus’s grip on the bars tightens. His knuckles turn white. I know what he’s thinking: Sunderday is three days from now. We don’t have time to figure this out.
Titus says, “I know we look a sight; our journey was long and perilous. But if she knew that I have returned—”
“Sweet boy,” the legatat says, and I hope I’m not imagining the slight softening of her gaze. “I’m acting on the high potentat’s
orders. But I will definitely let her know that you are in the city.”
Titus is speechless and crestfallen, and I have a sudden urge to wrap my arms around him and hug him close.
It’s time for me to be a shield maiden. I step in front of him and say, “It is a tremendous honor to meet you, Excellency.”
Her face turns toward me with interest.
I rack my brain for what little I know of Suratian values: deference to female authority. Physical poise. Steady gaze. I straighten
my shoulders and press on, “Of course we will honor the high potentat’s wishes, and we are grateful that you will pass along
our regards.”
She inclines her head in acknowledgment, which I take for a minor victory.
I add, “Since we’ll need accommodations elsewhere, do you have a recommendation for where we ought to pass the night?”
She is silent a long moment, and I hold my breath. If she gives us a specific recommendation, she’ll know where to find us,
if that’s what she wants.
Finally she says, “I suggest you stay at the Edge Jump Inn. Show the innkeeper your household rings and tell him the legatat
of the Diamond Household continues to hold him in high esteem.”
With that, she spins away and strides up the hill.
We watch her go for a moment. The train of her gown sparkles with glass, or maybe diamonds. She does not look back.
I turn to Titus, who gazes after her longingly. He knows the legatat well. Or at least he thought he did.
Finally he finds his voice and says, “Spearman Zhurit, thank you for your assistance.”
“Of course.”
Titus gives his last swallows of water to Blackwind. We relinquish our empty cups and turn our backs to the palace gates.
As we’re walking away, Titus says, “That was good thinking back there. I’m afraid I forgot how to talk for a moment.”
There’s so much hurt in his voice that my heart twists. He’d expected a homecoming of sorts. A warm welcome from people he
considers family.
“It’s a strange situation,” I say carefully.
“Something isn’t right,” he says.
“At least they’ll know where to find us. Do you know where the Edge Jump Inn is?”
“It’s where the East Canal empties over the Edge, in the thieves’ quarter.”
“This city has a thieves’ quarter?”
“The Thieves’ Guild is very powerful here. They own the Edge Jump Inn. It’s a place with a checkered reputation, to say the
least.”
“Is it odd that the legatat would recommend such a place?”
“It’s beyond strange. Strange enough that we’re going to take her recommendation very seriously.”